Chapter Three: Otis Meets Daisy

Otis grinned as he carved his initials into the dead teenage girl on the bed next to him.

"It was fun, sugar."

Once his mark had been put on the body, the man leaned back on his heels, admiring his work. The knife rose once more . . . he wasn't completely satisfied.

"Oh my God!" a female voice screamed down the hall. The sounds of hysterical giggling entered Otis' ears and he cringed. It sounded like Baby . . . but it wasn't Baby.

"What the fucking hell is that noise?" he snarled, shoving away the girl. He stode down the hall to Baby's room, where the door stood ajar.

"Look at this," an unfamiliar female voice was saying. "This one's gotta be the best."

"I dunno. I like the other 'un," Baby said.

"It ain't gonna matter if it's just comin' off anyway, right?"

More giggling.

"I want that dress she's wearin'," Baby said. "Y' think I'll look rich enough in that?"

Otis' eyes widened and he slammed open the door. "What the fuck?" he asked, staring at the two girls leaning against Baby's bed. A bottle of whiskey sat between them, on top of a pile of glossy fashion magazines. All courtesy of R.J., whom Daisy had coaxed to go buy the items for the girls.

"What d'ya mean, what the fuck?" Baby shouted, glaring at him.

Otis kept his gaze on the unknown woman, taking in her every detail. She smirked at him and began twisting a curl round her finger.

"This is my friend Daisy," Baby informed the pale man, "so you'd better be nice, Otis."

"Of course I'll be nice," Otis replied smoothly, eyeing Daisy with a contemplative look. Already he was planning what to do with her body.

"She ain't for killin', stupid," Baby snarled, reading his intent. "She's stayin' with us now."

Otis watched incredulously as Daisy leaned over and whispered something in Baby's ear. The two began giggling madly, hiding their faces with their hands. He stared at Baby with disgust.

"Keep it up, Baby, and I'll gut that bitch right here and now."

Baby snarled and jumped up, knocking over the bottle of whiskey. "She's my friend. Y' ain't touchin' 'er. Got it?"

"I'll do what I damn well please," Otis growled and took a step towards Daisy.

"Maaammmmaaaaa!" Baby shrieked in a shrill little-girl tone.

"What is it, Angel-Baby?" Mama Firefly called from downstairs.

"Otis' tryin' t' kill Daisy!"

"Otis Driftwood, you get yer ass down here this minute! I wanna talk t' you, right now!"

Otis hesitated. Mama Firefly never scolded him for anything, considering him her pride and joy who could be denied nothing. He grimaced, lip twitching in annoyance, then sighed and strode away. Hysterical girlish giggling filled his ears and he spat on the floor.

"What?" he asked Mama curtly when he reached the kitchen.

"You ain't killin' my girl," the older woman ordered, tossing her blonde hair.

"What d' you mean, your girl?"

"Daisy's family, y' hear me?"

"How come I never heard of her?"

"We never talked 'bout it. Hurt my little Baby's feelin's too much." She pouted and began to adjust her hair bow. "Daisy n' Baby were as thick as two thieves . . . and thieves they were, let me tell you!" Mama broke off into a laugh. "It was little Daisy that was with Baby when my little angel stabbed that ugly Hill girl in t' eye. Both girls got kicked outta that school faster than y' can blink! 'Cause of that, all them two girls ever did all day was run 'round together. Didn't get much schoolin' in book learnin'."

"That's obvious," Otis spat.

"You shet up there, Otis and listen to me. Daisy's gonna be stayin' here 'til all this mess she's in blows over." Mama grinned at the pale man and leaned closer to him. "Be nice, Otis-darlin'. You might find out y' like th' girl."

His face contorted into a snarl and he turned away to head back up to his room. "Like her dead," he muttered.